Privilege (Hard Places)
by Lady Storm
Summary: Martin and Pallum have some things in common.


Aryah showed him to his room and Martin thanked her profusely. She told him where to expect breakfast tomorrow and bid him goodnight, leaving him to admire the room. It was small but cozy - it had an armchair, a finely crafted table and chair, a matching armoire. And in the corner, a bed.

Later in the night, only a few hours until sunrise, Martin could bear it no longer. He quietly crept out of his room. Warm and inviting as it may be, it did not invite _him_.

Noonvale was as picturesque in the moonlight as it was in the sun. The spiraling paths between buildings were carefully kept, like the bushes and trees lining them, and one never had to look far for a beautiful place to sit. He'd spotted a particular one earlier that day; a bench underneath an ancient oak with heavy branches that nearly dipped to the ground. Through the foliage slices of the moon still managed to dot the ground beneath. It gave an air of seclusion in an already isolated village.

He was surprised when he saw somebeast already occupying the bench; but then again – perhaps he was not.

Pallum turned to see who this visitor was that brushed aside the leaves to join him. He raised a paw in greeting and Martin sat at his side, keeping a healthy distance from his friend's spikes.

"Nice place," Pallum said, squinting at the ripples of light above.

"Aye," Martin replied. They sat for a minute or two.

The hedgehog looked at him, and smiled. He felt that they were thinking the same thing.

"So, you too?"

Martin didn't need to ask. "Me too."

Pallum nodded. "It didn't feel right. I've never slept on a real bed before."

"Too soft." Martin agreed.

"And not lumpy enough!"

They laughed.

After a time, Martin said, "I hope Rose and Grumm getting the rest they deserve." He thought of them both, curled in their down-feather and straw beds and gently snoring into their pillows. Maybe Grumm even still had his ladle safely clutched in his claws. He smiled. Martin couldn't imagine the relief it must be, to finally sleep in a place you find familiar. Couldn't imagine it at all.

Pallum hummed in sympathy. Their companions had not adjusted to life on the road as he and Martin had. Meanwhile Martin, strangely, had the best sleep he could recall during these past two weeks. No distant slave stifling their sobs a few mats over. No looming threat of a whip to wake you afore dawn. Martin even slept through the whole night now; he called it sleeping in.

"I moved my blankets to the floor," Pallum said quietly. "But I still couldn't sleep without hearing the wind blowing outside. Thought I'd give it a try here, but it's still too quiet."

Only the gentle rustling of leaves and a distant buzz of insects upset the silence here. Nothing like the roaring of the coast.

"It is. And there aren't enough bodies jostling me around," Martin said. "You know, I've never slept alone before. Never without at least somebeast a paw's reach from me."

"Yeah, there were always Squidjees everywhere. What'd you sleep on?"

"Straw mats, but they were worn thin. You?"

"A stone slab. Some driftwood for a pillow."

"All your life?"

"'Long as I can remember."

"Me too."

They again considered this in silence.

"Sometimes…" Martin started. He got up, venturing beyond the screen of leaves, and looked up at the clouds drifting past the moon. Pallum followed. "Sometimes they'd take somebeast in the night. Always the weak ones. You'd wake up and your neighbor was gone. Or worse… you'd see it happen."

Pallum placed a paw on his shoulder. Martin dipped his head.

"The Squidjees would always find a new game." Pallum shared in turn. "One week it was to not let me sleep. Another it was to tie me to four logs instead of just one." He lifted a hindpaw, showing his friend the slivers of pink flesh on his ankle where the fur had been worn away. It was just a week, but babes could be cruel.

"They don't know what they have," Pallum whispered. He raised a paw to motion to the scenic village, slumbering in outlines of silver and navy. "They think this is normal. To sleep on a comfortable bed. To not pry rocks from your spikes in the morning."

Martin gave a wry chuckle at that. "Well to be fair, that's a unique problem to hedgehogs, isn't it."

Pallum playfully swatted him. "My point stands!"

It did. He couldn't help but think of his friends at Marshank. Dear Barkjon, wise and just, whipped to frailty. Strong Keyla, bold and good, biting through his lip as he carried stone from the quarry. Steadfast Hillgorse, quietly sharing his meager meals with the younger ones. All of them sleeping in rags and blood.

Martin thought of the days to come, when they'd all surely call Noonvale home. It was the most peaceful, serene place he'd ever known. Urran Voh was right; it's inhabitants knew nothing of war.

Martin hoped someday he could forgive them for it.


End file.
